


That ole devil called love

by owlaholic68



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: 5+1 Things, Body Worship, Clothing Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Fade to Black, Historical References, Jacques may be a demon but he loves his bf, Lingerie, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, POV Third Person Limited, Swearing, if you are one of my players maybe don't read this, listen they've been together for like 150 years they have nothing better to do, unless you really like to read about Jacques being constantly horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Jacques has very specific tastes in what he likes James to wear.





	1. 1943 (Nylons)

**Author's Note:**

> If you are one of my MOTW players, just...idk read this only if you want to read 5k words of Jacques being horny.

They’re lying on the couch on a snowy afternoon when Jacques first brings it up.

“If I got you something, would you wear it for me?” He whispers. He raises his chin to rest on James’ chest.

James frowns and raises his head. “Yeah, sure. I don’t need any clothing but if you have something in specific in mind, I’ll wear it.”

“In the bedroom,” Jacques clarifies. “It – it’s something special, if I can get my hands on it.”

“Alright,” James agrees. He needs something to distract himself from this depressing War. He’s seen a lot of wars in his unnaturally long life, and this one is the worst yet.

He forgets about it for a couple of weeks.

The reminder comes when Jacques approaches him with something held behind his back. “I got you something,” he says. Coy and smiling. Whatever it is, it’s exciting.

James raises an eyebrow. “Oh? May I know what it is, dear?”

“It’s a _surprise,” _Jacques sing-songs. “Close your eyes and I’ll put it on you. I’ll have to take some of your other clothing off.”

“Okay.” James sets aside his book and closes his eyes. He hears Jacques kneel in front of him. Then there are fingers at his belt, undoing it and tossing it to the side with a slight jangle. James keeps his hands on the arms of the chair as Jacques unbuttons his pants and slides them off his legs, leaving him just in his boxers and socks.

James shivers. The living room is drafty and being a vampire means he gets cold quickly.

“Here.” Jacques moves away and a blanket is firmly tucked around James’ shoulders. “And hold on, I’m going to push your chair closer to the fireplace. Warmer now?”

“Better.” James keeps his eyes closed. Jacques undoes his sock garters and takes off his knee-length wool socks. There’s a long pause before Jacques gently takes his right ankle and slides something onto his foot. It’s soft and smooth. Jacques slowly slides it up his leg past his knee before it settles in the middle of his thigh.

“Oh.” James finally realizes what this is. “Jacques, how in the world did you get your hands on a pair of nylons at this time? Th-they’re not allowed to be sold.”

“Not legally.” Jacques puts the other one on. “But holy shit, it was worth the effort.”

James cracks his eyes open. Jacques is ardently gazing up at him with his mouth slightly open.

His lover has always had a weird thing about legs. James really couldn’t care less about it. But having Jacques looking up at him with that lovestruck look on his face is worth any unusual thing he asks James to do.

He slowly raises one leg and closes Jacques’ mouth with his toe. “You’ll want to take the time to properly appreciate them, then.”

Jacques mutely nods and takes James’ right foot in his hand. He presses a kiss to the inside of his ankle and moves up his leg, tracing the back seam with his index finger. He gently pushes James’ legs apart so he can lay affection upon the top of the thin stockings, his curly hair brushing James’ sensitive thighs.

His other hand cups the back of James’ left knee, stroking up and down his leg. He stays like this for a minute that seems to stretch on. James brushes a curl from Jacques’ forehead and admires his lover admiring him. Not that Jacques doesn’t express how fervently he adores him every day, but he rarely dedicates so much time and effort to the task.

James shivers, but not from cold this time.

“Fuck,” Jacques whispers against his skin. “I – I can’t – you’re too gorgeous for me to handle. I want – I want to please you but I just want to keep touching you like this.”

“Y-You can do both,” James suggests. “You’re in a pretty good position right now t-to do both.” He blushes at the forwardness of suggesting such a thing.

Jacques looks up and grins, then the afternoon takes a different turn.


	2. 1954 (Gloves)

James put on his seatbelt and digs in his pocket for his driving gloves, only to find them gone. He frowns and double-checks his jacket pockets before turning to Jacques. He could have sworn he put them in his pocket this morning. “Dear, do you see my gloves?”

Jacques grins and scoots closer. He reaches up and caresses James’ jaw, turning his face to kiss him.

“I – Jacques, that’s sweet and all, but my gloves-” James keeps one eye around them. Are they really doing this right now, in the car, in _public-_

“I got you new ones,” Jacques murmurs against his cheek. “Your old pair was quite literally falling apart at the seams. Can I put them on you?”

That’s a specific tone of voice that James recognizes now. This means more than a pair of gloves to Jacques. James nods and lets Jacques clamber into his lap.

The pair of gloves that Jacques pulls out of his own pocket is _way _nicer than James’ old pair. They’re made of delicate thin red leather. The knuckle holes and the wrist strap are embroidered in white and gold flowers. Jacques takes James’ left hand and gently slips the glove on, wiggling his fingers to make sure it’s comfortable. He buttons the wrist strap and lets his hand linger.

The other pair goes on just as smooth. The material is feather-soft and light, like he’s not even wearing anything. James flexes his hands and Jacques softly gasps.

“Thank you,” James whispers. “They’re very nice, Jacques.”

Jacques only nods in response. He cradles James’ right wrist and kisses the palm of his hand. He stays like that, warm breath ghosting over the soft leather, hungrily staring up at James.

“We’re too far from home,” he says. His voice is quiet and husky. “I don’t think I can wait, darling. Take me right now.”

“Right now?” James squeaks. “We – we’re in public, Jacques! S-Somebody will see-”

Jacques raises one hand and snaps. A bubble of magic leaps out and encompasses the vehicle. “Nobody will see,” he promises. _“Nobody _deserves to see you like this except me.”

“O-Okay then,” James agrees. If they’re not going to get caught, then what’s the harm?


	3. 1967 (Leather)

James grabs Jacques’ leather jacket on his way out the door. He runs errands in the crisp fall morning. He doesn’t think anything of the coat: he borrows Jacques’ clothing all the time, though he’s never worn this particular jacket (merely envied it from afar).

He doesn’t really notice he’s wearing it until he meets Jacques for lunch. They’ve chosen a diner a few blocks down from the library. The diner has back corner booths and James chooses one. It’s not busy in here at this time of day: they’re meeting for an early lunch.

Jacques enters the diner and spots James. His eyes widen and he hurries over, plopping down in the booth with his hip touching James’.

“Is that my leather jacket?” He demands, running a hand up James’ leg. Even though they’re _in_ _public, _he can’t keep his hands off James.

“Yeah.” James shrugs. “Sorry, if you didn’t want me to wear it…”

“No, I _do.” _Jacques does a subtle twist of magic that will make everyone else temporarily forget their table exists. He grabs the lapels of the jacket and tugs James down for an intense kiss. “I do, I do, oh yes I do.”

Another dizzying moment where Jacques goes from zero to a hundred at the slightest thing. James loses his head trying to keep up. Jacques runs his hand through James’ smoothed-back hair, making it stick up in all directions. He bites James’ lip and drags his nails down his neck.

“Jacques-” James gently pushes him away. “Hold on. What in the world has gotten into you?”

“I’m sorry.” Jacques pulls away and looks sheepish. “I don’t know. I – I just-” He tentatively touches the edge of the jacket.

James sighs and takes Jacques’ hand in his own. “Is this because I’m wearing your jacket?”

Jacques nods. “It’s hard to explain.” He clears his throat and rubs the patchwork of bite mark scars across his own neck. “You look like _mine. _It’s so obviously not your jacket.” He waves a hand at James’ argyle sweater vest and bow tie combination. “It’s like university, I dunno.”

“Like university?” James frowns. “How do you mean?”

“Like how I carried your books,” Jacques explains. “And walked you to class, and took you to Winter Formal, and when I secretly beat the shit out of people who bothered you-” He abruptly stops talking. “Um, hypothetically I mean-”

James sighs at that last part and suddenly remembers several bullies who mysteriously dropped out of school due to sudden nervous breakdowns. And the one teacher who yelled at him in class, who had suddenly quit claiming he needed a change in career. And the guy who once made James cry in public speaking class, who ended up in the hospital the next day half-dead from a mysterious accident. And that’s only the few examples that readily come to mind.

“That’s…oddly sweet of you,” he manages. “But back to my point, you can’t just jump me every time you see me wearing your clothes. You need to behave in public.”

“Okay.” Jacques looks guilty, which is an odd look for him. “I’ll try.”

James takes pity on him and gives him a hug. “I’m sure you will. Now how about we actually eat lunch and then we’ll go right home.”

“Deal.” Jacques gives him one quick nip under his ear, then sits back down in his seat. He folds his hands in front of him and dispels the magic on their table so they can have a nice normal lunch for once.


	4. 1998 (Dressed Up + Disheveled)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild possessive behavior.

The new consultant for the Org is driving Jacques up the fucking wall.

He seemed like a normal enough guy, skilled enough in magic and hand-to-hand combat. They’d decided to give him a chance with doing a bit of research with James.

Jacques doesn’t even remember the dude’s name. People usually don’t last long with the Org: either they’re stupid enough to immediately get themselves killed, they can’t keep up, or they do something to piss off Jacques.

It looks like this guy is doing a very good job of the last one.

“So what about this one?” That consultant motherfucker pushes a book over to James. But he does it in a way that his hand brushes James’. And he’s giving him this fucking coy smile and leaning in way too close and _flirting-_

“Um, yeah, that seems like it could be a lead.” To James’ credit, all he’s done in response is politely smile and scoot his chair farther away. “Good i-idea, Gerald.”

Gerald. This loser just _looks _like a Gerald.

“Please, James, call me Gerry.”

“I – uh – okay.” James looks more uncomfortable with each passing minute. He buries his head in a book and tries to ignore Gerald’s small talk. Jacques watches from the hallway and seethes.

But what to do? James hates when he gets all mad and makes a scene. Previous retaliations against other would-be suitors have not been well-received by him.

And Jacques can’t even _really _fault Gerald. It’s not James’ fault that he’s so tempting. He looks ravishing today in a slim baby blue linen suit. It has a contrasting darker blue vest and sport coat. He looks so sweet in blue; it brings out his fair hair and green eyes.

Jacques is feeling a little green-eyed himself right now.

“James, I wanted to ask you something.” Gerald sets aside his book and moves a little closer to James, who edges further away. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward.” He puts his hand over James’ on the table.

“Um-” James tries to yank his hand away but Gerald must be actually holding onto it. “I – I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jacques has fucking had _enough. _He’s not going to stand here and let James be so obviously uncomfortable.

“James, dear!” He throws open the door and musters a feral smile. “I was just looking for you!”

Gerald lets go at his entrance but hasn’t moved away. Not taking the hint well enough.

“My office, please, James,” Jacques says. “I have to ask you about something. It’ll only take a moment, I promise.” James gets his drift and scurries out of the room, giving Jacques an appreciative smile. Jacques waits until James is out of the room before letting his smile fall into a furious glare at Gerald. He turns heel and slams the door shut.

James is waiting in his office, wringing his delicate hands. “Jacques, I promise-”

“Don’t worry, I was watching the whole thing.” Jacques closes the office door behind him. “Do you want me to kick him out?”

“No, no,” James shakes his head. Ugh, he’s too nice sometimes. Got a heart a few sizes too big, or whatever. “I’m sure he means well. He just doesn’t realize, um, that I’m not available.”

“No, you’re _not.” _Jacques presses him up against the desk and pulls him down for a bruising kiss. “You don’t look it, though, all nice and dressed up neat with a fucking bow. I should mess you up, show him that I’m the _only _one who can ruin you. Can I do that?”

His sweet James nods and cradles the back of Jacques’ head. “Y-Yes, okay,” he whispers with a hesitant smile. “Just don’t get too rough, alright?”

“Of course.” Jacques kisses him again. He undoes the top several buttons of James’ shirt so it exposes his collarbone, then gets to work on removing his jacket. The jacket gets thrown somewhere in the office and Jacques gets to work removing his cufflinks and rolling up the sleeves to James’ elbows. Messy and rumpled, wrinkled from Jacques’ too-harsh grip.

He fists a hand in James’ smoothed-back hair and tugs his head back to attack his neck in an ironic twist of roles. He satisfies himself with several dark bruises in conspicuous places until James whines at him that it’s enough.

“I – I have to go back to work,” James protests. He taps Jacques’ shoulder. “I actually have things that need to get done today.”

“Such a shame.” Jacques kisses him and bites down hard on his lover’s soft lip. “I would be happy to just do this all day.”

He takes a step back to admire James all disheveled like this. His carefully kept hair is a ruffled disaster with a few strands hanging down over his eye. His face and ears are flushed and his lip is reddened. His clothing is in a similar state of disarray, but it could be better. Jacques untucks one of James’ shirttails and kneels to messily roll up one of his trouser legs.

“Jacques, really-” James tries to pat down his hair but the damage has already been done. “It’s enough, I think you’ve proved your point.”

“If you insist.” Jacques stands and runs a hand down James’ chest. “I’d better let you get back to your work, then. We’ll be finishing this later.”

He watches James leave the office and starts counting down the minutes until they’ll be going home.

They _will _be finishing this later.


	5. 2001 (Furs)

James is curled up against the radiator. He has a blanket around his shoulders and another one over his feet. He watches the awful ice storm outside while sipping a nice hot cup of tea. This winter has been dreadfully cold, too cold to go anywhere, not even to the Org. Jacques only tries to drag him somewhere once a year before he remembers how much James doesn’t want to go _anywhere _in this kind of weather.

Jacques is at the Org doing work right now. James has the whole afternoon to himself to read and relax-

The lights cut out without warning. The radiator next to James’ cheek whines and then that wonderful warmth dies. A freezing draft blows through the living room. James stands and immediately starts shivering. Of all the times for the power to unexpectedly go out, it has to be _now? _

Maybe the bedroom is warmer, being a smaller room. It is, but only slightly. James throws on an extra sweater that doesn’t do much. While he’s in here, he notices for the first time in many years that there is a fireplace in here. Jacques’ house is old enough that there’s a small fireplace in every room. With modern heat, they haven’t had to use it in decades.

He runs out to the living room and fetches an armful of wood and tinder from the main fireplace, quickly gets a fire going in the bedroom, then goes on the hunt for blankets. There are a few quilts already on the bed but he knows they have other stuff stored in the upstairs linen closet.

James digs through summer linen storage before he finds what he’s looking for: tucked into the back are their old blankets from before they had central heating. He takes an armful downstairs and dumps it all on the bed, then goes up for more.

Digging in the back of the closet, his fingers brush something super soft. He frowns and pulls it out, then keeps pulling. A mass of fur tumbles out. He unfolds it, then recognizes the coat that Jacques bought for him as a tenth anniversary gift. It’s a floor-length full mink fur coat with a large fox fur collar. Hideously expensive but very fashionable back in the day. James wasn’t a die-hard fan of fur and he still isn’t today, but at least it was hardy enough to last this long.

And the best thing: this coat is the warmest thing James has ever owned. He throws it on and runs back downstairs. He drags all of the blankets off the bed and onto the floor in front of the now-roaring fire, assembling a nest of blankets and pillows.

Isn’t there something in survival guides about actually limiting the amount of layers you wear? James frowns and recalls something about being naked. Or was that only if you were wet and cold? He doesn’t remember but he takes off all his clothing just in case, then puts the fur coat back on. He curls up in front of the fire and basks in the overpowering heat.

He dozes, only getting up once in a while to adjust the fire. Otherwise he floats in the warm and soft cocoon he’s made for himself.

Several hours later, the front door opens.

“James?” Jacques calls out.

“In here!” He answers. The storm is still raging outside.

Jacques stomps into the room, shedding layers of snow-soaked clothing. He looks ragged and miserable. “It took fucking _forever_ for the road to clear for the bus,” he grumbles. “And they were only able to get two stops away, no further because the hill was all ice. I spent the whole trip yelling at the electric and plowing companies. They’ll get to our house first when they _finally _get out here.”

“That’s fine, long as you’re home safe.” James yawns and stretches. “Come lay with me by the fire, dear.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jacques says. He strips to his underwear and wiggles into the blanket pile. He rests his head in the crook of James’ shoulder and slips his hands under the fur coat.

James squeaks and jerks away. Jacques yelps and pulls his hands back.

“You’re _naked!”_ He exclaims.

“You’re _freezing!”_ James protests.

“Of course I’m freezing, I just trudged through the damn North Pole to get here! But why are you naked? N-Not that I mind, you know, just wondering!” His eyes are wide and his cheeks are red like he’s never seen James naked before in the hundred-plus years they’ve been together.

James blushes. “I don’t know, I thought it would make me warm up faster. Besides, this coat is so soft…”

Jacques looks like he’s going to say something, but instead he bites his lip and rubs his hands together.

“Jacques?”

“It’s nothing,” he snaps. “I’m just being silly.”

James nudges him. “No, dear, what is it? I’m sure it’s not silly.”

“It’s just, with you wearing this and nothing else…” Jacques trails off and trails a cold finger down James’ bare chest. He shivers. “I dunno, I had a fantasy once where we were living in a cabin up north in the Arctic or something, except it was like a thousand years ago, and I was a fierce warrior and I came home after a hard day’s work out in the snow to find my sweet boyfriend naked in front of the fire wrapped up in furs. And then that fantasy _may have_ ended with us passionately making love in front of the fire.” He covers his face. “It’s really fucking embarrassing, forget I said anything about it.”

“I – um-” James has no idea what to say after that incredibly detailed description. “That was…a very specific fantasy. But not unpleasant and certainly not silly.” He gathers his composure. “I – uh, I’m not busy this afternoon, if you wanted to…”

“Really?” Jacques uncovers his face. “Right now?”

“Sure, why not?” James literally has nothing better to do. Besides, it was kind of a sweet fantasy and it means he can stay right here where it’s warm. He musters a coy smile. “After all, I can’t let my brave warrior freeze when I can warm him up.”

Jacques grins and pounces on him. They barely notice when, hours later, the power finally comes back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full-length mink fur coats were hugely popular with college students in the late 1800's because they were expensive but still affordable if you went to an Ivy League, for example.


	6. 2011 (Lingerie)

James paces past the shop three times before he musters the courage to go in. A cheery bell jingles over the door and he almost bolts.

“Good afternoon!” A young woman chirps from the counter. “How can I help you today?”

“J-Just browsing,” James stutters. “Thank you. I – I’ll ask if I need help.”

He ducks his head and peruses. This is a very fancy store, all sleek chrome tables and artful displays of merchandise. James wanders between racks and displays. Even though there’s nobody else shopping in the store, he feels like a hundred people are staring at him. His face burns. This was an awful idea.

A surprise for Jacques for their 140-year anniversary. Something very special for him.

_And for yourself, _the voice of his long-dead mother chimes in. _You need to do things for yourself._

_Yes Mother, _he’d assured her. _I will. _Tried his best to follow that advice.

_And while you’re at it, get a better taste in men, _she’d gently admonished after yet another disastrous relationship. _You have an alarming tendency to attract bad boys._

_Yes Mother. _He’d ignored that piece of wisdom.

But something for himself. That changes his track of thinking. He knows what Jacques likes; now, what does _James _like?

His wandering lands him in front of a rainbow assortment of velvet sets.

Something James likes: soft things. Velvet and lace. He hesitates at the too-wide selection of colors before settling on a rich navy blue set. But the sizing…

“E-Excuse me?” James gets the attention of the attendant, who jumps down from her stool to come over. “I, um, I could use help with the sizes…”

“Yes, of course!” She has a nametag that reads ‘Jessica’. She guides him through the different size options and James, blushing, tries not to let on that he’s not actually buying this for a romantic partner, but rather for himself.

“Anything else I can help you find?”

“Um, yes. Thank you. I – I’m looking for a whole set, actually? Stockings, perhaps?”

Her face lights up. Her job must be awfully boring. Either that, or she makes commission. “It must be a very special occasion! Unfortunately we don’t have any tights that go with this specific collection, but I can show you ones that kind of match, and maybe we can even find a robe or something to go with it!”

Jessica is a very good salesperson. James ends up walking out with much more than he planned to buy. He’s also having a mini panic attack about how much money he just spent at one time.

_You deserve nice things, _he repeats to himself. _You need to splurge and treat yourself more often. _That inner voice sounds oddly like Jacques.

He hides his purchase in the back of the closet and tries not to freak out about it for the next couple of days.

Then it’s their anniversary and he can’t wait any longer. He gets Jacques to stay in the living room for a while so he can get ready in the master bathroom.

James gels back his hair but leaves one carefully unruly strand over his forehead. It’ll all get messed up shortly but it’s the presentation that matters. He carefully takes off his normal clothing and nervously dresses up in what he bought.

He keeps his eyes closed until the end, only peeking them open once every couple of minutes to make sure he’s not putting something on backwards.

“Dear-” Jacques sticks his head in the master bathroom without knocking. His eyes widen.

James yelps and turns away. “Don’t look! I’m not done!”

Jacques slaps his hands over his eyes, nearly knocking off his glasses. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“I – I’m almost ready,” James says. His nerves just flew to the roof and he can feel them fluttering like butterflies in his throat. “J-Just another minute, please.”

“Okay.” Jacques keeps his hands over his eyes but stays where he is. James quickly finishes his preparations.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he quietly says, taking Jacques’ hand and leading him into the master bedroom. Jacques lets himself be led, a small curious smile on his face. James has him stop in the doorway and tells him to keep his eyes closed.

“This is a big surprise,” Jacques says. His eyes are obediently still shut but his hand reaches out and catches the edge of the robe. He fingers the delicate lace edge and smiles. “I’m excited. You usually don’t plan a whole surprise like this.”

“Well, it – it’s a special occasion.” James sits on the edge of the bed and arranges himself. “Y-you can open your eyes now.”

The look on Jacques’ face makes everything worth it. He gasps and puts a hand to his mouth.

“Oh holy shit,” Jacques whispers. He takes a step forward. Hesitant, unwilling to take his eyes away. He kneels on the floor in front of James. “I don’t deserve you, you’re so gorgeous. Can I – am I allowed to touch you?”

“Not with your hands.” James blushes from the unexpected coy confidence he just mustered.

Jacques nods and puts his hands behind his back. He presses a kiss to James’ leg. More stockings this time, a Jacques favorite. He works his way up James’ leg to the matching garter belt, then shifts so he’s halfway in James’ lap to kiss him on the lips.

He leans too far forward and unbalances James, toppling both of them back onto the bed. Jacques laughs and nips at his ear before moving down his neck.

“I want to take fifty years to learn to paint just so I can paint you like this,” he breathes.

“Paint me like one of your French girls,” James jokes. “Or take a picture, dear, it’ll last longer.”

“What an idea.” Jacques sits up, still straddling him, and takes one hand from behind his back to grab James’ phone on the nightstand. He fumbles before pointing it down at James, tongue sticking out in concentration.

James’ already red face burns even more. A picture like _that _on his phone, if only his mother knew… “Dear, no, I was joking-”

“Nonsense, it’s great.” Jacques smiles. “I love you, sweetheart.”

It’s hard to be mad at him when he does that. James softly smiles back. “Aw, dear-” The camera clicks. “Hey!” He tries to grab for the phone but Jacques throws it across the room.

“We’ll get that printed later.” He presses James down and sighs. “That is, if I remember. When you’re like this, you always make me forget everything else and I can’t stand to keep my hands off you. I just want to get you all unrigged, but it’d be such a waste to spoil this… I’d better take the time to _properly _appreciate you.”

James settles back on a pillow. “See that you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this fic Word document: "Jacques has a weird clothing fetish"


End file.
